


Beyond the Sphere of Grief

by Cherry101



Series: Death has no Barriers [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a song I sang in choir, Death, F/M, Funerals, I promise, M/M, Songfic, Suicide, it's not as angsty as it sounds, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry101/pseuds/Cherry101
Summary: Yuri's seventeen when he dies. An accident on the ice - his shifting center of balance threw him off, he broke his neck against the guardrail, or something like that. He doesn't remember.Now, as he watches his own funeral, he wonders what he's still doing here. There must be a reason.~~~~~Or, Yuri's a ghost, and he's haunting his former boyfriend.





	Beyond the Sphere of Grief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> At this point, all my fics are going to be gifted to Aura, because she motivates me and inspires me so much??? Like??? If you haven't checked out her Hunger Games au, you need to, because she's an amazing author, and I'm so glad we're friends. 
> 
> Anyways, this turned out a lot angstier than I had thought, and less angstier than it could've been. I sang the song for competition in choir, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. 
> 
> Anyways, enough of me rambling... Enjoy! Don't forget to comment!

_There is an old belief,_

_That on some solemn shore,_

_Beyond the sphere of grief,_

_Dear friends will meet once more._

_Beyond the Sphere of Time and Sin, and fate’s control,_

_Serene in changeless prime, of body and of soul._

_~On Some Solemn Shore, Andrea Ramsey_

  


Death is lonesome.

 

Yuri had expected it to be painful. He had expected to be thrown from the living world to an endless void of darkness. He had expected… anything but what had happened.

 

He did not, and does not, expect to be watching his own funeral.

 

He doesn't remember much about his death, just that it had been an unfortunate accident on the ice.

 

If he thinks about it hard enough, he gets flashes of sharp pains in his neck. He faintly gets some sense of remembrance.

 

For a couple of days after he woke up, no recollection as to how he ended up dead and nowhere to go, he had wandered around aimlessly, wondering what the _fuck_ had happened to kill him.

 

And now, he is at his funeral, watching a small group of people that actually give a shit about him cry.

 

There is almost a sense of fondness, sobering Yuri to the realization that yes, _people actually cared about him._

 

His grandfather is in the front row. His face is buried in his hands, but it's obvious he's crying.

 

Viktor and Yuuri sit with tightly clasped hands. Viktor has tears trickling down his cheeks, but it doesn't look like he notices. Yuuri seems to be on the verge of tears, his expression oddly blank.

 

Milla and Georgi sit with Yakov and Lilia. Yakov has grief etched into the lines of his face, his back hunched. Lilia seems torn between comforting him or comforting herself. Milla is sobbing into Georgi’s shoulder, while Georgi rubs her back awkwardly, his expression sorrowful.

 

The worst of all, to Yuri, watching from the side unseen, is Otabek. His boyfriend of merely two months.

 

Otabek sits at the back of the crowd. He isn't crying. He sits, hunched over, with dull, listless eyes. He's wearing Yuri’s jacket - a bit too big on him, since Yuri grew taller - and he stares off into the distance.

 

Yuri wants to scream. He wants to make some sort of presence known, that yes, he may be dead but he's _okay._

 

Instead, he's helpless to watch the people who cared for him most take turns, one by one, to say one last goodbye to him.

 

“My Yuratchka,” His grandfather whispers, his voice cracking, “I hope that you are happy, wherever you are.”

 

“Yuri. I am so sorry I allowed this to happen.” Yakov murmurs, evidently blaming himself for the accident.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky. You would’ve shone so bright if this had not happen.” Lilia says, obviously attempting to keep her calm composure.

 

“Yurio,” Viktor breathes, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t been speaking in days, “Oh Yurio.” It’s all he’s able to say before he breaks down again, allowing Yakov to lead him back to the pew as Yuuri steps up to take his place.

 

“Wherever you are, Yuri, just know that I will always remember you.” Yuuri smiles shakily, a weak smile that is clearly forced.

 

Milla doesn’t even speak. She walks up to the coffin Yuri’s body is lying in, shakes her head violently, and dashes off again. In another world, Yuri would be angry, but he understands.

 

Georgi opts out in saying a goodbye, choosing instead to give Nikolai an apologetic look as he shuffles after Milla.

 

Finally, Otabek stands to walk down the aisle, his expression just as forlorn as it was when he was sitting.

 

He stops just in front of the coffin, pursing his lips the way he does when he’s struggling to repress his emotions. Yuri wants to yell at him, most of all - if only to get rid of that look in his eyes.

 

When Otabek speaks, he only says four words, but those four words resonate in Yuri’s heart(does he even have a heart?).

 

“I love you, Yura.”

 

It is then that Yuri decides what it is he’s going to do with the rest of his existence.

 

...Someone has to keep his boyfriend company. If nothing else, Yuri will be there beside him, even if he couldn’t be seen or heard or felt.

 

The first month is the worst.

 

For awhile, Otabek doesn’t sleep. He tosses and turns and moans Yuri’s name, and Yuri sits beside him on his bed, wishing desperately he could ease his former boyfriend’s pain.

 

 _I’m here,_ He wants to say, and he often does say, even as it goes unheard, _It’s okay, I’m here._

 

When Otabek’s awake, he sits on the couch, staring at a blank television as his phone blinks with unread messages and notifications.

 

Yuri’s aware of what everyone on the internet is saying. They’re all talking about him, about the strange accident that he can’t remember that lead to his death. About how he is unfortunate, because he died at the age of seventeen. He had his whole career ahead of him, they say.

 

Yuri knows all this, and he doesn’t care what they think about him, now that he’s gone.

 

Sometimes, Yuri will touch Otabek’s shoulder. His hand passes through the man, of course, but he swears that Otabek shivers when it does.

 

Once, Otabek looks up, his lips bitten bloody.

 

“Yuri?” He’ll ask softly, hesitantly, and Yuri will respond by attempting to take his hand. It fails, but Otabek evidently feels it, because he smiles, and, for the first time, his eyes hold a tiny bit of the spark they once held.

 

After that, Otabek finally starts going back to the rink. It’s obvious that he really doesn’t want to - that he doesn’t want to face the memories of Yuri, the demons that lurk in the ice. Maybe that’s why he quits, only a week after attempting to practice.

 

Yuri sits with him through it all. If Otabek were anybody else, Yuri would be bored by now, definitely, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be bored of watching his former boyfriend.

 

Sometimes, yes, Yuri slips away at night, wandering off to check on his grandfather. Nikolai mourns hard, reasonably so - Yuri was the last bit of family he had. It makes sense.

 

It almost makes Yuri feel guilty for not visiting - but, unlike Beka, he doesn’t think he could handle watching his grandfather tear himself apart. It hurts too much.

 

So he goes back to Almaty, hovering awkwardly above the couch because he can’t sit down.

 

A year passes.

 

Otabek has gotten into the music industry. It doesn’t surprise Yuri, not really - Otabek had been a DJ for years now, it’s only right that he chooses to actually pursue a career doing it.

 

He spends his days watching the Kazakh fiddle around with professional soundboards, creating mixes that blow Yuri’s mind, and he wishes fervently that he could be there with Beka, really be there, not just as an apparition with no purpose.

 

Two more years fly by.

 

There’s a girl.

 

She’s of Russian descent, that much is obvious to Yuri, but she lives in America, and has no accent. She has long, waist-length platinum blonde hair almost as silver as Viktor’s, and pale blue eyes. She’s even more stoic than Otabek is.

 

Her name is Kristina, and she works with Otabek for his tour in America, and Yuri can tell that she has feelings for him.

 

If Yuri were alive, whether he and Beka were dating or not, he would’ve kicked her ass. She had no right to look at him that way. No. Right.

 

But now… Yuri wants his former boyfriend to be happy. He wants Otabek to learn to love again, because he shouldn’t have to hold on to Yuri forever. He shouldn’t hold on to Yuri forever.

 

In the end, after a couple months of awkward pining, they end up going on a date.

 

One date turns into two dates, and Otabek is finally smiling and laughing again. The spark has almost completely returned to his eyes.

 

Yuri’s happy for him, really.

 

It still hurts a bit, but he’s happy. Honest.

 

When they’re on their dates, Yuri finds himself wandering around the cities they’re in, seeing sights that he never got to see when he was alive. He easily slips through walls to see inside of them. He doesn’t feel as bad about leaving Beka alone, because he isn’t alone anymore.

 

He has Kristina.

 

The two date for what feels like centuries, but is actually another two years. Yuri realized a long time ago that his sense of time was screwed up, but this is the most obvious proof of it.

 

He still spends his nights floating in Otabek’s room, watching him sleep, noticing the differences between his sleep now and how it was those years ago, right after the funeral.

 

He watches Otabek buy the ring hesitantly.

 

He hears the murmured apology, meant for his ears and his ears alone.

 

“I’m sorry Yura. I promise I still love you, but I need to move on… I hope I have your blessing.”

 

“ **Of course you have my blessing, idiot.”** Yuri knows he can’t be heard, but he smiles down on Otabek anyways, chuckling.

 

As if he had been heard, Otabek seems to lighten up, and he practically skips off to the fancy Italian restaurant he’s planning on proposing to Kristina in.

 

Yuri watches him go.

 

Another year later, and the wedding ceremony is on.

 

Kristina wears a silken baby blue dress with gold accents. Otabek’s suit matches. They both live in America, now, and the outfits are almost a tribute to Kazakhstan.

 

Viktor and Yuuri come, surprisingly. Yuri knows that they haven’t been in touch with Otabek, and he wonders why they decided to come when they weren’t close to the groom in any way.

 

He feels guilty again, because seeing the two reminds him of how shaken they both were at his funeral. The way Viktor could barely speak his name without crying. The way Yuuri forced himself to stay whole, because he couldn’t afford to break down.

 

Yuri supposes he should’ve checked up on them, but he doesn’t know if it would’ve done any good.

 

Vows are exchanged, promises made, and, vaguely, Yuri wonders if he could’ve had this. The beautiful suits. The shimmery rings. The big party.

 

He wonders if he and Otabek would’ve kept their relationship together, or if Fate had decided a long while ago that Otabek would marry Kristina Petrovna Ivanova, with her Russian ancestry and American background. With her sarcastic quips and silent judgement.

 

 _They really do make a good couple._ Yuri thinks, and he watches.

 

Toasts are made. They dance.

 

After awhile, Otabek slips off to the restroom, and Yuri follows.

 

He doesn’t know why he follows. Something is calling him to his former boyfriend, just like it called him at his funeral, those years ago, to watch Otabek.

 

Yet, when he glides through the bathroom door, he doesn’t expect Beka to be crying.

 

Otabek is sobbing, head clutched in his hands. He’s so obviously in pain, it physically hurts Yuri, and he floats over to the Kazakh, stopping beside him.

 

“I tried, Yura,” Otabek cries, his voice cracking and breaking apart, “I tried so hard to move on from you. I thought… I thought that marrying Kristina would help me. I was _wrong.”_

 

Yuri doesn’t know what to do, because there’s nothing he _can_ do. He’s merely a spirit, a ghost, and he can’t touch Otabek, Otabek can’t see him, can’t hear him…

 

...what is Yuri doing here? What is his purpose? Why is he stuck watching the one person whom he cares for the most destroy himself?

 

Otabek digs through a small bag Yuri didn’t notice before. He pulls out a bottle of pills.

 

Yuri is torn. He… He knows, what Otabek’s about to do. He doesn’t want Otabek to do it. He wants Beka to live, to be happy.  


...But Beka won’t be happy, living. And Yuri also wants nothing more than to see him again. It’s not like he can stop the other, anyways.

 

No, instead, he’s helpless to watch Otabek pop an entire handful of pills into his mouth. To watch him cup water from the faucet and use it to swallow the pills down.

 

To watch him lay down on the floor.

 

To watch his breathing stop.

 

Otabek wakes feeling confused. He doesn’t remember what happened - just that he was miserable, living.

 

**“I never thought you would actually take your life. Should’ve known, though, that you weren’t as over me as you thought.”**

 

Otabek’s heart skips a beat, and he sits up straight, looking, staring directly at a smiling Yuri Plisetsky.

 

Yuri still looks to be seventeen, the exact same as he died - he’s even still wearing his costume. He’s floating next to Otabek, and Otabek realizes that he’s holding out his hand.

 

Otabek takes it, using the support to help get himself up, before tackling the younger in a hug.

 

“Yura,” He whispers, over and over again, because this - this was living. He needed Yuri.

 

Yuri’s arms wrap around him, and, for that moment and for eternity, it’s just him and Yuri. Nobody else.

 

And it’s all he ever needed.

 

_That creed I fain would keep,_

_That hope I’ll never forgo_

_Eternal be the sleep_

_If not to waken so._


End file.
